


Home (Is In Your Arms)

by JoyoftheNightSky (orphan_account)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Mention of injuries, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), also one (1) kiss, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24231925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/JoyoftheNightSky
Summary: After Aerith's rain, after they've returned to Healen Lodge... Tseng takes care of his second-in-command.
Relationships: Reno/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Home (Is In Your Arms)

Contrary to what many people believe, Tseng actually had several very good reasons to make Reno his second-in-command.

All everybody ever notices is the flash and bang, the spectacular failures. Very few people realize a lot of these “failures” are carefully set up traps. Even if they are not, Reno excels at making the best out of a bad situation. (That is not to say that Reno doesn’t make blunders, and if he does, they are usually spectacular. But overall, his successes outweigh his failures by a wide margin.)

Case in point: not only did he keep the President safe as long as possible (always a Task in itself with Rufus) but he anticipated and then plotted around the President's own insane machinations. It was more than coincidence, or blind luck, that had both him and Rude in position to catch the President after that leap out of a building.

Tseng knows his people. Reno would’ve pulled another miracle out of somewhere even if he and Elena hadn’t been there. He also knows the redhead is hiding his own injuries, both to reassure his fellow Turks and because he’s still in command mode, needs to make certain his people are safe.

It’s why he bides his time until they’re finally alone, Rude and Elena guarding Rufus as the President rests and regains his strength. (Geostigma may have been cured, but miracle rain isn’t a magical replenisher of energy.) Then, however, in his makeshift office with a locked door between them and the world…

“Good to see you in one piece, boss,” Reno drawls, perched on the edge of the desk almost with his usual nonchalance. Tseng nods, steps close enough to keep Reno from bolting, and starts tugging on his suit jacket. The fabric is dirty and rumpled, but not torn.

Turks' uniforms are made to withstand a lot, much like the Turks themselves.

Reno actually squeaks in surprise and flinches back. “Yo, boss, didn’t think you’d be _this_ happy to see me!”

“Let me see,” Tseng orders, trying for his usual businesslike tone. He misses by several miles, his voice harsh to his own ears. “I can see you're hurting, Reno.”

Reno's defensive posture vanishes, is replaced by a tired slump. Even his hair seems to droop. “Boss, if I let you take care of that now, I’m gonna crash and then I’m not getting up again for a couple hours,” he says quietly. “Still on the clock, yo.”

Tseng snorts and finally succeeds in undoing the stubborn zipper. “Not if I say you’re not,” he informs Reno, trying to be gentle as he strips the jacket off Reno's wiry body. The shirt beneath shows the telltale rust-brown streaks of dried blood. “Neither of us is on the clock right now and fuck anyone who says differently.”

Reno's incredulous stare means he doesn’t try to stop Tseng from opening his shirt. He hisses when Tseng starts to remove it, though. The fabric must have gotten stuck to a wound when the blood dried. Tseng breathes a curse and abruptly steps back. “Come on,” he orders and turns, marching to the door. Reno falls into step behind him after a long moment.

Even as he walks through the connecting door to his bedroom, Tseng can feel his shoulders relax. He can work with Elena, is used to partnering with her by now, but having Reno at his back, just far enough behind him so neither of them are hindered in their range of movement, is familiar in a different way. Reno _knows_ Tseng, understands him in a way he’s allowed few people to know him over the years.

His bedroom has been untouched since he left it the morning they headed to the Northern Crater – except for the shallow indent in his pillow and coverlet. Reno wouldn’t have gotten much sleep in the past days, Tseng knows from personal experience – but the thought that the redhead chose to get what little rest he probably could here, on his bed, warms something that had frozen in the icy gales of the north.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Tseng tells him. It’s not an order, not now. There is no rank between them once they’re off-duty. Still, Reno obeys, sitting down on Tseng’s bed with none of his usual grace. By the time Tseng returns from his tiny bathroom with everything he needs to clean up Reno’s injuries, the redhead has sprawled backwards and thrown one arm over his eyes. He doesn’t move when Tseng sits down next to him on the bed, and that is reason to worry. The only times Reno is this still are when he’s recently been fucked into the mattress, he’s seriously injured, or he’s been awake far longer than should be humanly possible. Tseng prays to Gods he doesn’t quite believe in it’s the third option instead of the second.

Reno doesn’t move his arm and doesn’t flinch when Tseng sets to work on removing his shirt again. He hisses a curse when Tseng places a washcloth soaked in hot water on the wound where blood soaked into the fabric and then dried, the shirt sticking to the wound, but even that is subdued for Reno. Tseng carefully guides his arm away from his eyes to check for signs of a concussion, relieved when he doesn’t find any. Reno manages a tiny echo of his usual smirk. “Jus’ tired,” he slurs. “Long days, boss. Missed you.”

Tseng doesn’t answer, because what does one say to that? He’d certainly been glad neither Reno or Rude had been captured along with them. Instead, he reached up to carefully untangle Reno’s goggles from his hair and set them aside. Next is the elastic holding his hair in its tail, and then indulges himself by running his fingers through the mess, untangling strands as he goes. “You’re a mess,” he says. Reno sorts and reaches up slowly to give a gentle tug to the white bandage still holding gauze in place on Tseng’s forehead.

“So are you,” and Reno’s eyes narrow a little, lips twisting in worry. “How bad?”

“Bad enough I wouldn’t be sitting here without Valentine’s timely intervention,” Tseng admits. He picks up the washcloth and inspects the soaked area. “This will hurt.”

Reno hisses curses at him as he removes the fabric from the wound, then cleans it and tapes a clean bandage in place. (He’s still too weak for even a low-level Cure spell. The wound can heal on its own.) Tseng finds several more abrasions and shallow cuts once he’s able to remove Reno’s shirt, along with a collection of mottled bruises in varying sizes, but nothing that would require actual medical intervention.

His second got lucky, but all he does when Tseng tells him so is shrug. He hisses as sore muscles protest the movement. “Fuck, I’m getting old.”

Tseng laughs. “Start complaining about that when you find a grey hair,” he advises Reno, packing away the medical supplies. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

He needs to take a shower, has the desperate need to wash off days of blood and sweat and fear that still linger beneath his suit. They had just enough time for a quick wash in between Valentine’s rescue and having to catch Rufus after his insane leap. Tseng’s pulse wants to start hammering at the memory.

He makes it a quick shower, because once he’s shed his suit and stands under the warm water, his own exhaustion is a heavy weight. He doesn’t even dry his hair or get dressed in anything more than underwear. If anything comes at them tonight, he will shoot it in the face and ask questions later.

Reno has taken his words as the invitation they were. The remains of his suit are thrown haphazardly over a chair, the redhead himself already stretched out beneath the blankets. Eyes that can’t decide if they’re blue or green blink open when Tseng closes the bathroom door. The appreciative glance up and down Tseng’s body is familiar and even welcome, but then Reno frowns, an unhappy expression that reminds Tseng his own body is still bearing the marks of their torture at the hands of the remnants. “They’re dead and gone,” he reminds Reno. “We’re still here.”

Reno nods, but the unhappy expression remains. Tseng finds himself wrapped in strong arms as soon as he’s within reach, Reno’s skin warm against his own. He wraps his own arms around him, buries his nose in Reno’s shaggy mop and breathes. He pretends he doesn’t notice the way his lover is shaking, or that Reno’s clinging to him. He pretends he’s not clinging back just as desperately.

They’re still here.

They almost weren’t.

Tseng is gentle as he tilts Reno’s head up, ignoring the brightness of wet eyes. The kiss tastes of salt, but he’s not sure if that’s his or Reno’s tears. He doesn’t care, because beneath that it’s Reno, mint and clove cigarettes and coffee.

It’s _home_.


End file.
